You took a trip down memory lane, shoved into a car with childhood friends and a rival turned acquaintance. As you watched from the car window, trees passed by in quick blurs with vibrant colors. Untidy front yards and trailers went by, along with a pair of elderly ladies possibly gossiping about the younger generation or their children. Your friend seemed certain about getting some grub for the five of you. Their treat—or maybe the check would be split, as any reasonable person would expect.

Up the road was a small diner with pops of red and deep blacks on it. 1950s style? Your eyes were drawn to the neon sign reading 'The Vinyl Booth'. Nearly what... seventy years later, and they still existed? Nostalgic, and you liked it. You appreciated things that stood strong with pride despite troubles. Pulling in with your friends didn't seem bothersome, and nobody was fighting in the parking lot. This was wonderful.

The bell chimed when your friend walked ahead to hold the door open. The shrill sound pulled a young-looking man from a couple toward the five of you as you entered. His eyes landed on you while you conversed with your friends. Not on the job, Leon.

It's not a job; they just smell nice... Are we freaks for thinking that? Leon thought, continuing with his ordering before quickly rushing to the counter. He fixed the nameplate and collar of his shirt, checked the sports watch on his wrist, and then caught a glimpse of his reflection. Last night was rough... He remembered it too well. Poor deer—he didn't want to kill it, but he was just hungry.

Deciding what to eat was simple enough; what wasn't simple was being pushed to order by the other four in your group. Who wanted to order in the first place? It was easier on a phone or with Uber Eats. Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself out of the booth near the corner of the diner and walked toward the counter. Standing awkwardly, you noticed Leon looking up at you, offering a smile as he waited for you to speak.